Throwing Caution to the Wind
by Psychedelica
Summary: It didn't matter anymore that the king would have him beheaded, or burnt at the pyre, or bombarded with arrows. No, his destiny was Albion. His destiny was Arthur. The only thing that mattered right now was saving the prince. (Truth reveal)


**So, this is my first Merlin fanfic, and I hope it turned out okay. I wrote it in the middle of the night (took me two hours and nineteen minutes) and I've hardly changed a thing since then, so sorry if there are any mistakes or stiff dialogue! Also, I hadn't really watched Merlin in months when I wrote this, so some of the stuff may seem a smidge OOC. _I_ think it's an alright fic, though. :D**

**Disclaimer: Me? Own Merlin? Harharharharharharharhar! *ahem* Sorry ... XXD**

**Oh yeah, and there are very crude translations to the spells Merlin uses (Old English) at the bottom of the page ;D **

**Sorry for the painfully long A/N! Enjoy!**

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><p>Merlin knew Arthur would find out one day.<p>

Merlin's destiny was to protect the Once and Future King so that one day Arthur would rule over a golden age, and there was no way Merlin could go about doing that without letting the secret slip. Or – touchwood it never happened – Arthur guessing.

He'd never admit it, of course, but he'd often lain awake at night, picturing the moment he told the prince.

He wondered how he'd react. Would he faint? Now that would be funny, and Arthur would never be able to live it down. Would he laugh? Think Merlin was joking? That was more likely. Would he – and the thought was so horrifying Merlin daren't dwell on it – turn him in to Uther for use of magic?

And that unlikely though possible reaction on Arthur's part was the reason Merlin never told.

In the end, he'd never had to tell him at all. No, quite the opposite: he _showed _him, and it wasn't even on purpose.

They were out hunting, just the two of them – something that had become quite a regular activity between the pair. Merlin really did hate hunting, but he endured it because, frankly, it was the only time he got to see the true Arthur.

Oh, but he'd never admit that, of course! He complained _constantly, _moaning about the cold, or the heat, or the smell. He dragged his feet through the bracken and scared off all the deer. On the outside, Merlin was having the worst time of his life.

On retrospect, whilst they were out hunting was probably the best time to let the future king in on the secret, since Arthur was always a different man outside of the castle walls. Freer, somehow, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It was sort of true, Merlin realised. Only in the woods, alone with his manservant and away from the prying eyes of his father, knights and people, could the young Pendragon truly express himself.

Merlin wasn't sure what attacked them, since he'd never seen such a creature in his life. He could feel the magic coming off it in leaps and bounds, though, so it obviously wasn't your average, common-or-garden creature.

They were taking a break in a clearing. Sweat was rolling off the both of them, only partially to do with the physical exertion of hunting. This summer had been one of the longest and hottest in either boy's memory, and even Arthur looked ready to collapse.

"Can't we go back yet?" Merlin practically whined. The prince shot a glare at him, and Merlin quickly added, _"Sire."_

"No Merlin, we cannot go back yet! We've barely been out here two hours, and I won't be able to go hunting for at least another week."

Merlin frowned, and then remembered that the king's birthday was coming up, and nobles from all around had been invited to partake in the celebration. _Faaan-tastic,_ thought Merlin bitterly. _I'll have to act manservant to at least a hundred other Arthurs._

It was then that the creature attacked. No warning – it just leapt. Time seemed as slow as oozing mud for an instant, as Merlin took in the beast's wolf-like fangs and hungry red eyes.

Suddenly he was bowled aside, and the world spun for a moment – the ground taking the place of the sky and vice versa – as he careened sideways, head over hills. Arthur had pushed him out of the line of danger.

Spitting out some dirt he had swallowed, Merlin clambered to his knees, slightly disorientated, to see Arthur fighting off the huge brown beast with his sword.

Merlin couldn't just stand and watch like a coward. As Arthur brought his sword down towards the monster's shoulder, Merlin muttered a few magical words to guide the blade. The creature screeched – a high, shrill noise, not unlike a baby's cry – and began fighting more viciously.

For a while there was nothing Merlin could do except cast the occasional encouraging – though he was careful not to let Arthur see – spell.

And then suddenly, the scales tipped, and luck was no longer in Arthur's favour.

The best knocked the prince's sword flying with its snout. It landed a good thirty feet away – and the opposite side of the clearing to where Merlin was standing. Both boys cursed simultaneously.

The creature growled and bowled a flailing Arthur over. It would have been comical if it hadn't been the prince's life on the line.

The creature bore down upon him with an almighty screech. Arthur tried to scramble backwards, but it was no good. The beast placed one huge front paw either side of Arthur's shoulders so the young prince was unable to escape.

Merlin swallowed – or, at least, tried to, seeing as his heart was already in his throat – as he watched the brutal display. The beast was drooling already, bearing its teeth as it craned its neck hungrily towards Arthur.

And that's when Merlin snapped. He threw all caution to the wind. It didn't matter anymore that the king would have him beheaded, or burnt at the pyre, or bombarded with arrows. No, his destiny was Albion. His destiny was _Arthur._ The only thing that mattered right now was saving the prince.

"_Byre arodscipe!"_ he yelled, not entirely sure which spell he was even casting. Whatever it was, though, it seemed to work. As Merlin snapped out his palm, he felt himself push at the air, sending the beast flying backwards twenty feet.

Arthur bolted upright, turning astonished eyes on his manservant, but the fight wasn't over that easily. The creature was dazed, but it didn't seem to have a scratch on it. Rolling over, it got back onto all fours and slowly began its approach, growling quietly.

Ignoring the now very aware Arthur, Merlin changed his stance until he was facing the creature side-on. He held out a firm palm and began quietly chanting.

"_Gewanhæle__ þone__eoten __. . ."_

The creature screeched in pain, took a step back, but then continued. Obviously the spell hadn't been strong enough.

Merlin hesitated as he wracked his brains. "Uh . . . _á__bradwian__ se __ælwiht__!"_

The monster didn't even seem to be affected by that one, and that was one of the strongest spells he could think of off the top of his head.

He blinked, and resorted to pure instinct.

He shot his palm out again, bellowing louder than he thought possible, _"Áf__ær__ þone stýficléah! __Áfind__ cwealmnesse! __Áfeorse!__"_ Somehow, he turned the volume up even higher. _"Á__cwil, __forcúþ __ælwiht!"_ he bellowed. _"__Á__cwil!"_

There was a short moment in which he thought the powerful magic wasn't powerful _enough, _but then the monster howled, rearing itself onto two legs. It whimpered like a kicked puppy, spun around, and ran. Moments later it was gone.

Adrenaline wasn't the only thing coursing round Merlin's veins as he watched the beast vanish into the trees. His body was still tense, his muscles locked in place, but not as residue from the fight. No, it was the magic. He could still feel it flowing through him, touching his actual _essence. _Rarely did he let his gut instinct take control, and rarely did he use such powerful spells. The truth was, it frightened him a little, knowing he could do such dark, terrifying, _beautiful _things.

Just as he was the great, all-powered Emrys, destined to protect the future King Arthur, he also had the potential to be one of the most powerful, evil wizards that ever existed.

Merlin hoped, for the sakes of himself, Arthur and the rest of Camelot, that the dragon's words rang true, and he did one day become the _good _sorcerer who helped Arthur lead Camelot to freedom.

Merlin could feel his eyes still smouldering with the passion of magic, and it wasn't until the power had fully left his system that he became the ordinary manservant again.

He shook out his arms and legs to free up the muscles . . .

. . . and realised who was still sitting gobsmacked on the floor of the clearing.

He froze.

Grinned sheepishly.

Arthur didn't return the smile.

Didn't call him a cretin.

Or an idiot.

Or a fool, or a simpleton, or a 'complete and utter lazy little maggot'.

Merlin's smile faded. He swallowed. He'd pictured this moment a thousand times before in his head, so why didn't he have a clue what to do now?

"I can explain," he blurted out suddenly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. _Finally, a reaction, _thought Merlin in relief.

"You see . . ." he began, and then stopped. What was he supposed to say next? "Well, I can't really explain . . ." he admitted. "It's just . . . I, uh . . . Please, Arthur. Uh, Sire, I mean. Please, Sire. I was just trying to . . . protect you," he finished lamely, ears burning red.

Silence. Merlin thought about slitting his own throat with Arthur's hunting knife, not only to avoid the awkward conversation, but because it would be quicker than what King Uther surely had in store for him.

He dropped his eyes to the knife at Arthur's side, honestly contemplating it, but then remembered Arthur's fate.

Camelot's fate.

The fate of Albion itself.

Too afraid to do anything else, he took a step backwards. And another. And another.

And then he bolted.

Seconds later, the prince had sprung up too and was hot on his heels. Merlin could think no rational thoughts – just that one word:

_Run._

Though he had caught the prince unawares, Arthur clearly had the advantage, being fitter, faster and stronger. And, of course, he lacked Merlin's klutziness.

Somehow every tree root, every hillock, every pebble, was out to get Merlin, causing him to stumble and twist his ankles several times. He could hear Arthur's footsteps over his own, and knew instinctively he was only a couple of feet behind. Instead of continuing running, Merlin took a sharp full turn so he could run in the direction he'd just come from. Unfortunately, though, Arthur saw through this, already a step ahead.

As Merlin turned, he grabbed hold of the servant's shoulders and knocked him over. Merlin lay on the ground, winded and panting, gazing up in pure fear at the only-slightly-out-of-breath prince.

"I'm not going to kick you, if that's what you're worried about," Arthur scoffed. He knelt down beside the manservant, sitting on his heels.

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief, but he was still wary.

"You saved my life," said Arthur matter-of-factly.

"You've saved mine in the past. It's not that big a deal."

"Merlin."

He shut up. He knew Arthur's warning voice, and knew what came next.

"Thank you, Merlin," said Arthur, looking his servant – his _friend _– directly in the eye. "I don't think I've ever said it before. To anyone, actually. _Thank you."_

Merlin bowed his head, both embarrassed and confused.

"Do you know what happened today, Merlin?" Arthur said cheerfully, as if commenting on the weather. "We were attacked by a magical beast. It knocked me over but you threw me my sword. I defeated the creature but didn't manage to kill it. It ran away. Have you got that, Merlin?"

The serving boy's eyebrows knitted together.

Arthur groaned in irritation. "Do you understand?" he said slowly.

Merlin nodded obediently, not meeting the prince's eyes.

"_Good,"_ Arthur smiled, straightening up. He grabbed Merlin's arm and dragged him into a standing position. "Now, seeing as I've just saved us both from a horrifying creature of nightmares while you just stood there and screamed, _you _get to carry my sword . . ."

He strode on ahead, leaving Merlin with a dazed and slightly dopey smile on his face. He definitely hadn't expected _this _reaction from the prince who had been brought up to hate magic.

But then he realised something. If he were just some stranger who'd fought off the beast, Arthur would have run a sword through his heart by now. When wondering how the prince would react to finding out about his magic, he hadn't factored in one thing:

_He was Arthur's friend._

He grinned even wider, and ended up looking even dafter, as he ran to catch up with the prince.

"Oi, wait up!" he called, and then, as an afterthought, _". . . Sire!"_

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><p><strong>Byre arodscipe = wind power (lit. wind + energy)<strong>

**Gewanhæle ****þone****eoten = weaken this beast ****(lit. weaken + the/that + monster/enemy/giant)**

**Á****bradwian**** se ****ælwiht**** = kill this beast (lit. slay + the/that + strange creature/monster)**

**Áf****ær ****þone stýficléah**** = leave this clearing (lit. depart/go out + the/that + clearing)**

**Á****cwil, ****forcúþ ****ælwiht = die, foul beast (lit. die + foul + strange creature/monster)**

**Áfind**** cwealmnesse = feel pain (lit. feel/experience + pain/torment)**

**Áfeorse = go away (lit. go away/depart/dispel)**

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><p><strong><em>Hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment if you feel like it. XD<em>  
><strong>


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